Häschen
by Delirious Daydream
Summary: You go to a party with your friend Alfred and meet a guy who sticks you with a name like "Häschen". A request for my sister. Cover is not mine. Female Reader x Gilbert


**Hello! This is a little one-shot dedicated to my younger sister. I'm rating it T for some underage drinking and a curse word or two, nothing major. Happy reading, you guys!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters. Credit for Hetalia goes to Himaruya Hidekaz.**

You sigh quietly to yourself as you collect the last of your belongings from your locker, relieved that the school day is finally over. Of course you had assignments due the following week, most being major grades, but you figure it wouldn't hurt to try to relax a bit over the weekend. In short, you are looking forward to lazing around at home while you procrastinated like a pro.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" A loud, boisterous voice calls. You glance over casually, unsurprised at Alfred's antics.

"What is it?" You ask, though you know the guy will tell you regardless.

"A friend of mine is throwing a party and said I could bring a friend! Wanna go?"

You take a moment to seriously contemplate his offer. A party does sound fun, you think to yourself, and while you aren't the most sociable person out there, the idea is appealing. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, you nod in agreement.

"Yeah, sounds fun. When is it?"

"Tomorrow at eight," Alfred replies, "Just wear something casual, 's no big deal."

The two of you walk together, chatting about nothing in particular (though he does most of the talking) as you head home. Alfred had always been a talkative person, you note idly, but that added to his personality. It surprises most people when they hear that the two of you aren't an item, since you two are rather close.

Alfred had made it clear (after some rumors had gotten seriously out of hand one day) that he had no such feelings towards you and that you were just a good friend of his. It hurt at the time when he had phrased it so insensitively (plus the crush you had on him at the time was just barely fading), but the two of you had managed to make it through the rough patch and became closer friends than before. It was for the best, you realize, since Alfred's friendship is worth more to you than anything else.

"Well, this is my stop. I'll see you tomorrow, (Y/N)!" Alfred says, waving to you as you both go your separate ways.

You find that you are exhausted once you step across the threshold of your home, lazily dropping your bag and kicking off your shoes. Your mom isn't home (working late, you supposed) so there is no one to scold you for it anyway. With little else to do, you head to your room and flop tiredly onto your bed.

You welcome its soft embrace as sleep rushes to claim you.

The next morning is uneventful. You wake up and change into some comfortable clothes—some gray sweatpants and a plain, white T-shirt—before washing up in the bathroom. You manage to tame your hair into its usual style before you head to the kitchen. You find a sticky-note taped to the fridge:

I get off at ten. Dinner is in the fridge.

—Love, Mom

You sigh in exasperation (was the woman ever home?), but appreciate the effort nonetheless. You heat up some leftovers for breakfast and spend the day lazing about as you had planned. It isn't until Alfred calls you around seven that you remember the party. You curse under your breath and rush to get ready.

"He may have said to dress casually, but I hardly think that sweats are gonna cut it," You mutter, glancing down at your attire.

In the end, you find some dark jeans and wear those with a gray camisole and a black cropped sweater. You pull on your favorite pair of black high-top converse and glance at your reflection in your floor length mirror. You know how to dress tastefully without showing much skin, and you take pride in that. By the time you finish prepping, Alfred is banging on the front door loudly enough to alarm the neighbors and demanding that you get outside.

"Couldn't you, I dunno, not bust down my door like some psycho?" You ask him irritably once the two of you are well on your way to the party.

"Couldn't you move faster?" He counters good-naturedly, flashing a broad grin your way. You scoff and roll your eyes.

The two of you don't show up to the party right on time, but Alfred reassures you that it was cool to show up late.

"Then what was the point in rushing me?" You demand.

"Got impatient, I guess!"

Nonetheless, the two of you made it and Alfred is holding the door open for you. You give him an odd look.

"What? The music is playing too loud for anyone to hear you knocking. Besides, people usually let themselves in at these kinds of parties," Alfred explains. It was an odd concept, but you follow your friend inside regardless.

The music was loud; you could feel every beat reverberate in your bones as your heart pulsed to the rhythm of the drums. You could see people that you recognized from school, as well as some that were complete strangers. A lot of these people are older than you, you realize, and that thought alone intimidates you. As if sensing your thoughts, Alfred puts a hand on your shoulder and steers you through the crowd.

"Stick with people you know and avoid the ones you don't," He says simply. You marvel at how loud your friend is once again as you realize that you heard him over the music.

Alfred then leads you to another part of the house, the living room. At least that's what you think it is; it's hard to tell when there are so many people crammed into it, not to mention the cups and trash and bottles everywhere.

"Hey, brohas!" An obnoxiously loud voice calls. You shudder, realizing that Alfred may have met his match with this stranger.

"Hey, Gilbert! This is (Y/N)!" Alfred greets, pushing you forward to meet the party's host.

He's not much taller than Alfred, you notice, and his eyes are an unusual red color. You chalk it up to the fact that he appears to be albino, with his pale skin and silvery white hair. You aren't sure if your assessment is accurate since the lighting is dim (to add to the atmosphere, no doubt), but what you are certain of is the fact that the mere grin on Gilbert's face rubs you the wrong way.

"Enjoying the party, häschen?" Gilbert asks, grin widening.

You bristled, "What did you call me?"

You absolutely hate when people speak in a way you can't understand, especially right in front of you. What was it they were saying that they couldn't say to you in English?

"Kesese, I called you bunny. Don't be so uptight!" Gilbert snickers.

At that exact moment, another person calls Alfred over. He wordlessly looks to you. One glance at the longing in his gaze and you knew that you had lost the battle; you let him run off reluctantly.

"I won't be long! Promise!" He shouts, waving back as he races across the room toward another group of people.

Great. One of the few people you knew at the party had just ditched you.

"What's with the long face?" A hand clasps onto your shoulder, "This is mein awesome party! Live a little!"

You bat the hand away irritably, shooting a glare at Gilbert as he snickers again. "What's your deal? Can't you just leave me alone already?"

"Why would I do that? It wouldn't be awesome of me to leave a little häschen all by herself," He replies, "Besides, someone around here needs to show you how to have a good time!"

"And that person needs to be you?" You question with a dull tone.

"Of course! I am the awesome host of this party!"

It didn't seem like Gilbert would leave you alone any time soon, you quickly realize. Though you certainly won't admit it, you are grateful for his company; it means that you aren't completely alone in a new environment. Hopefully Alfred would come back so you wouldn't have to spend much more time than was necessary with the albino.

"Here."

You glance up in confusion as Gilbert offers you a red, plastic cup. You take it and stare into the semi-dark liquid within.

"What is this?"

"Beer."

"No way," You refuse, shoving the alcohol back.

You are still in high school and, no matter how it is in Europe, aren't of legal age to purchase or drink alcohol. You definitely aren't one to give into peer pressure either, you recall proudly. Gilbert only snorts at your decision,

"Your loss."

Though surprised at the fact that he didn't push you any further, your expression quickly changes to one of disgust as he chugs the alcohol down as if it is water. You chalk it up to the fact that he is European, and German at that. You faintly recall that the drinking age is younger in Europe than it is in America.

Gilbert mutters something about getting another drink, which you hardly acknowledge with a small nod, before he slips away. To your annoyance, you find yourself alone again. You try to distract yourself by listening to the loudly blaring music or watching other people dance, but you are overcome by apprehension. You glance around somewhat nervously before your gaze settles on a boy that is openly staring at you.

He approaches you with a lazy smirk, a dangerous glint to his eyes. You find yourself unable to move as he stands before you, one of his hands resting against the wall beside your head.

"Hey," He breathes, the stench of alcohol invading your nose, "What's a pretty little thing such as yourself doing here all alone?"

Cornered, you can do little more than stare like a deer caught in headlights. The situation is unlike any that you had encountered before, so what are you to do? Nobody around you noticed your distress, and the music was too loud for anyone to hear you yell. Where was Alfred when you needed him?

"Hey, häschen!" Gilbert called. The stranger takes a step back as the albino squeezes in between the two of you, successfully blocking any advances.

"G-Gilbert," You greet shyly, overcome with relief at the rescue.

You notice that the other guy is quick to leave, probably due to the 'interruption' that Gilbert made. Speaking of which…

"Where were you?" You demand, whirling on the red-eyed German. He only held out another cup.

"You didn't want beer, so I got you some soda instead," He muttered. It may have been a trick of the dim lighting, but you could swear that his face had tinged pink.

"T-Thanks," You murmur, suddenly shy and mentally cursing your stutter. Gilbert gives a careless shrug, quickly turning his back on you before you could catch his expression.

Alfred soon decided to make a reappearance, dragging along another guy that you saw around school. Arthur, you remember distantly. You only have one class with him and hardly ever talk to him, but he was nice enough. His accent was also pretty interesting (as you always loved hearing a good British accent), but his most distinguishing feature would have to be his eyebrows. Yeah.

"Y/N! You know Arthur, right?" Alfred asked, nodding over to the Brit.

"Yeah, from…math, right?"

Arthur gives a polite nod. "Yes, that's right. Nice to see you again, Y/N."

"Yo, Eyebrows! Here!" Gilbert shoves a cup of beer towards Arthur, who swears and barely keeps the drink from spilling everywhere. To your astonishment, the Brit accepts the alcohol and sips from it casually, though he comments negatively about the 'American' quality.

"Don't drink too much, dude," Alfred warns lightly with a snicker.

"Git. I'm not a lightweight, I'll have you know! I can hold my liquor with the rest of 'em!"

"Sure," Your friend mutters with a roll of his eyes.

"Please tell me that I'm not the only one with common sense at this party," You ask Alfred, mildly uncomfortable with the idea that most of the people present are or will be wasted.

"Uh—"

"Never mind, just…don't," You cut in with a sigh.

It doesn't take long for the party to get into full swing. It is rather chaotic, to say the least. You yelp as you manage to narrowly avoid getting hit by a flying lamp…again. You turn to tell Alfred that you are ready to leave, but realize that he and Arthur have disappeared. You are left alone with Gilbert once more.

"Häschen."

You look up, but then quickly notice how close the other is and debate on whether or not you should take a step back. Gilbert seems to realize your close proximity as well; he becomes visibly flustered and hastily moves back a step. For some reason you feel a vague sense of disappointment. Gilbert gives an awkward cough.

"So…"

"…So?"

"…"

"…"

Neither of you are able to find a way to start a conversation, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) a new voice interrupts.

"GILBERT!"

"Oh, hey West!"

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"You mean mein awesome party?"

You recognize the newcomer as Ludwig, a German student in the same year as you and Alfred. You remember that Ludwig had briefly mentioned that his older brother was also a student at your school, but it wasn't until now that the information held any meaning to you. Should you be glad or concerned that Gilbert also goes to your school?

"—said that it was only going to be a few people!" Ludwig exclaims angrily.

"Hey, I didn't invite all of these people! Some of them probably told other people, you know!" Gilbert counters.

"Well, who did you invite? Maybe we can get those that weren't invited to leave."

"Francis, Antonio, Alfred, Feliciano, Lovino, Arthur, Matthew, Roderich, Elizabeta, Mathias, Lukas, Tino, Berwald, Kiku, and Yao, just to name a few," Gilbert replies.

"What about Ivan?"

"Hell no! He showed up on his own, but do you want to be the one to tell him to leave?"

"…Point taken."

You shake your head in amusement, wondering how the two could ever be related…or how Gilbert is supposed to be the older brother.

"And her?" Ludwig gestures to you.

"Häschen? I told Alfred that he could bring her. She's cool," Gilbert reassures, glancing over at you with a wide grin.

"…Häschen? Isn't her name Y/N? And since when do you give someone a nickname like that?"

"W-Well…Oh, look over there!"

When you and Ludwig glance back, Gilbert had already run off.

"…Can't believe I fell for an old trick like that," Ludwig grumbles to himself.

"What was that about?" You ask. Since Gilbert had already told you that the word was German for "bunny", you don't see much of a problem with it anymore.

"Well, a nickname like that is typically reserved for couples," Ludwig answers. "I was merely curious since I didn't recall Gilbert getting a girlfriend."

"…Oh."

For some reason, the idea of having such a meaningful nickname brings warmth to your face. You hastily thank Ludwig for his time before deciding to find Gilbert. You don't get very far when a hand plants itself on your shoulder. You jump in surprise and let out a small squeak, but quickly scowl when you see that it is only Alfred.

"Ha, sorry! Didn't mean to scare ya!"

"You don't sound sorry," You huff. Alfred laughs before taking you by the arm and steering you towards the front entrance.

"Maybe I'm not. Well, let's get you home!"

"H-Home? Now?"

"Well, yeah. You were the one who told me to take you home before your mom got back."

You do remember that, but you still feel disappointed. With a defeated nod, you let Alfred walk you back home.

The following Monday, you go about your day as usual. You joke with your friends in class, get reprimanded by teachers, struggle to pay attention to your lessons…yeah, the usual. You stop by your locker to store some of your things before you meet your friends for lunch. However…

"H-Häschen!" Could it be…?

"G-Gilbert?"

You had nearly forgotten that Gilbert goes to this school, but at least you can finally get some closure with him. For some reason, you felt guilty for leaving with Alfred so suddenly, and you hadn't even confronted Gilbert about the whole "häschen" thing.

"I wanted to, uh, talk to you," Gilbert explained after a moment.

"Y-Yeah?"

"Well—"

"Hey, guys!" Alfred interrupts. You internally groan at his terrible timing and lack of common sense.

"Alfred," You greet with a sigh.

"Yo, Gil, ya finally ask her out?" He asks, immediately turning to the stuttering German. You feel your own face heat up in embarrassment; from Alfred's lack of tact or the idea of going out with Gilbert, you aren't quite sure.

Gilbert curses in German and turns on Alfred, who quickly holds up his hands in defense and appears confused at the other's anger. You roll your eyes, already knowing that Alfred is not one to sense the mood. You step forward with the intention to break up the potential fight, but trip over your bag (which you had dropped in surprise upon seeing Gilbert again) and stumble into the two of them instead.

You yelp and flail your arms, though a pair of arms manages to prevent you from smacking your face into the floor. You look up into Gilbert's grinning face.

"Does this mean you've fallen for me, Häschen?"

As you splutter in embarrassment and Gilbert laughs in amusement, you faintly hear Alfred's comment of how 'cheesy' the two of you are. You find that you don't care, feeling perfectly content to stay with the loud-mouthed albino for as long as he'd have you.

 **And that's it! I might add more to this, but I dunno. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!**


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